


Inner Voice

by CynicalRainbows



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/pseuds/CynicalRainbows
Summary: Kitty struggles with a negative inner voice.Or, Kitty Has A Bad Time And The Queens Make It Better
Comments: 32
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @saria-malinas for the Six Gift Fic exchange.

It begins with an interview- a Sunday interview, no less.

She doesn’t look forward to it- she’s exhausted. 

An eight-show week is hard enough but having to sacrifice her one day off on the altar otherwise known as ‘Publicity’ will, she knows, leave her running on empty and the thought of having to immediately jump back into the old cycle on Monday morning- without the benefit of her usual recharge day- makes her feel like she’s having weights piled on her shoulders.

(She still agrees, of course.)

Sundays are usually a day to revel in doing things that would be impossible on show days.

Cathy stays up until a ridiculous hour writing on Saturday nights and then spends Sunday following patches of sunlight around the house in which to curl up with whatever she happens to be reading.

Kitty has taken to glancing at the titles and week by week, they’re never the same, there’s never a pattern:  _ Middlemarch _ one week,  _ The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo _ the next,  _ Plato’s Republic _ ,  _ Sula _ ,  _ The Hunger Games _ ,  _ Trainspotting _ ,  _ Boswell’s History of Johnson _ ,  _ Finding Nemo: The Official Novelisation _ … Once, Cathy caught her looking and opened her mouth, but whether she meant to scold or welcome, Kitty never found out, escaping into the kitchen before Cathy had a chance to speak. 

Catalina gets up early and goes to hear Mass and usually ends up back at the house around lunchtime. Kitty isn’t entirely sure where she goes- sometimes she comes back with a Starbucks cup (Green tea, always), sometimes with shopping bags, but more often, she comes back just as she left, empty handed. 

She finds it difficult to imagine what Catalina might do to relax, honestly- she’s a queen in every sense, just as regal and composed and thus terrifying in the 21st century as Kitty imagines she must have been during the 16th.

Jane goes on walks to places that sell felt and buttons and ribbons, and then listens to the radio- in the garden when the weather is nice, in the living room when it isn’t- while flowers and birds and fruit bloom beneath her fingertips. 

Whatever embroidery project she’s working on, she manages to make it look easy. Sometimes she even sews with her eyes shut, the better to take in whatever she’s listening to- sometimes music, but more often, it’s chapter books read by people with calm, slow voices, poetry that flows so easily it’s almost musical. 

Once, back in the very early days, when all was spiky and uncomfortable, when they were all still raw from the fallout of their old lives and picking over the old rivalries, Anne had muttered that Jane listened to spoken books so much because she couldn’t read properly. 

It was only the three of them in the room at the time- Kitty wasn’t sure if she was meant to have heard or not. She wasn’t even able to tell whether Anne was serious. 

Jane had pretended not to pick up on it, only the slight pinkening of her ears betraying her...that, and the fact that she stopped listening to audiobooks in the communal areas, taking them instead to the privacy of her room. 

Anne had apologised, in her own way (a stack of newly-purchased audiobooks left outside Jane’s door early one morning a week later, with a bar of Galaxy and a green post it note stuck to the top of the pile that Kitty read when she stumbled down the hall for water at 5am: ‘ _Sorry I was a total bitch. Love A x’)_ but Kitty has never been able to find the courage to bring the issue up with Jane herself. 

Even if she was braver, she has no idea how she’d even begin to approach something so sensitive, but still, she wishes she could find the words to say that it’s ok, that she understands how it feels to struggle, that she’d never ever think less of Jane for it, that she still admires Jane’s ability to face all catastrophes calmly and without raising her voice and that, in her (admittedly limited experience), this ability is far rarer and far more precious than any amount of literary talent.

They’re words she’ll never be able to say, she knows, but sometimes, she wonders what would happen if she followed the woman into the garden, the kitchen and just sat herself down at Jane’s feet to listen along with her and watch her sew in quiet companionship…. The imagination never goes further than that- she won’t let it. 

Imaginings left to run wild can be dangerous, she knows.

Anne’s day-off plans are as unpredictable as she is- sometimes she takes herself to the library and sometimes to the skate park, sometimes to a museum and sometimes to a bar, and she seems to relish all equally, at least as far as Kitty’s judgement goes. 

Having never actually accompanied Anne on any of her trips, she bases her judgement on the level of enthusiasm in Anne’s voice when she makes her customary exit: a shouted  _ ‘Bye, I’m going to the-’, _ followed by a slam of the door hard enough to make the whole house tremble (and twice loud enough to awaken a sun-warmed Cathy from one of her book-naps). 

If Kitty is in the vicinity, Anne will sometimes look at her intently as she says her goodbyes making eye contact so intensely she forgets to blink. She cannot tell if it’s an invitation or an attempt to telepathically dissuade Kitty from asking to join her, and not being entirely certain (or even a little bit certain) of the former, she decides it’s the latter. 

(It’s safer that way.)

She doesn’t hold the lack of any actual invitation against Anne though.

She wouldn’t invite herself anywhere either, and it’s not like she’s made any overtures of friendship to her ‘cousin’ in their new life. 

(Honestly, she isn’t sure how she’d even begin.)

So….. she can’t complain.

Anna is the only queen she’s ever shared a Sunday with, the only queen she’s even close to feeling comfortable around. Anna’s the only one she knew before, the only one she has any right to lay claim to.

Not only did she know her, but they were friends- actual friends, acknowledged as such not only by Anna herself but by the historians too (even if their reporting of some events is unreliable at best and complete fabrication at worst).

Because of this, she makes sure to be extra careful about monitoring how long she imposes on Anna for, how much she forces her company upon her. 

She never seeks her out, she always waits for Anna to come to her- and oddly, she finds she never has to wait too long before Anna’s checking in on her again, asking if she wants company, if she wants to walk to the shop, the park, if she wants to join Anna on an errand, on a run. 

It’s the last one that means she never sees much of Anna on Sundays- Sunday is Anna’s day to do the sort of long runs that she enjoys, to spend as much time as the gym or pool or climbing wall as she’d like. 

She can’t bring herself to let Anna go without the activities that mean so much to her by taking her up on Anna’s suggestion that they spend Sunday doing something different….and as she can’t swim, doesn’t enjoy running and doesn’t even know how you’d go about scaling a climbing wall, she declines all of Anna’s invitations to come with her and have a go herself. 

(Anna doesn’t need her holding her back, spoiling her fun.)

Once or twice, admittedly, she finds herself thinking back to the Anna of their old life and the unending patience she showed with the maids-in-waiting (Kitty included) who struggled on horseback. She remembers Anna’s calm reassurance that she was doing  _ ‘very well, for a beginner, liebling’ _ , she remembers Anna’s beaming smile whenever any of them plucked up the courage to take their horse into a canter, her gentle words of praise.  _ ‘That was wonderful, you looked so much more confident!’. _

It makes her wonder, for a moment, if perhaps Anna isn’t just asking out of pity or duty but because she really would enjoy showing Kitty how to enjoy the swimming- or the running or the climbing- for its own sake. 

But only for a moment.

Time and time again, she turns Anna down. Time and time again, Anna keeps asking, but Kitty knows she’s bound to stop soon.

(For some reason, she dreads it.)

This Sunday though, she doesn’t spend at home- alone or otherwise. Rather than her normal routine of sleeping in and enjoying the lack of interruption, she spends it getting up even earlier than usual, then taking a bus and another bus and then a train to the interview meeting point.

The interview room has greeny-blue industrial carpet with a cigarette burn by her foot that her eyes keep drifting to as she talks. Through the crooked blinds, the sun shines enticingly, teasing her as it pulls out the shadows longer and longer, as minute by minute her precious day off ticks away.

‘-and how would you describe the show?’

She takes a sip of the coffee that she accepted out of politeness- lukewarm and stale tasting.

‘It’s a chance for us to tell our side of the story- it’s a revision of the accepted version of events. Anyone who likes history, anyone who is into feminist narratives should see it.’

She tries to keep her voice enthusiastic- reporters, she knows, can be so quick to read an inflection as a ‘tone’, a muffled yawn as ‘arrogance’.

‘And focusing a little more on you- you were the fifth wife?’

‘That’s right.’

‘The second wife beheaded-’

A nod- professional, adult.

‘And by all accounts...the only wife actually at fault for the ending of the marriage?’

She’s taken back by the calm, smiling audacity.

‘Excuse me?’

‘All the other wives- their marriages ended because of rumours, back-biting, boredom, lust….and yet, yours was simple infidelity?’

She bites her lip.

_ Don’t cry. Don’t cry. _

‘I think….that’s the sort of harmful narrative we try to confront in the show.’

‘But you would have stayed married, if it wasn’t for the affair?’

_ Breathe. _

‘I think… Henry would have tired of me, one way or another. He would have been rid of me eventually, even without-’

‘But you were found guilty, weren’t you?’

‘I…. By the court, yes.’ She swallows hard. Her voice isn’t shaking, that’s a start.

‘And beheaded. At such a young age- you’re also the youngest wife.’

‘I am.’

‘How has that affected how you’re treated, do you think? Is it useful to you?’

‘Useful?’

‘Do you think that things are made easier for you because of it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Oh-’ The interviewer waves a hand laden with rings. ‘The stage persona you’ve adopted….the ‘babey’ persona, I believe fans are calling it? The faux-innocence? I think what we’re all interested in knowing is- how much of it is an act? How much of it is YOU and how much is just a way to get what you want?’

‘I’m- well….’ She’s struggling. 

An act? It was a persona, of course it was- they’d all carefully chosen the ‘character’ they wanted to be onstage- but was there more to it than that too? Was she really just trying to manipulate the others by playing up her youth?

‘They’re all partly who we really are but I didn’t-’

It’s harder to keep her voice steady now- the second interviewer, silent until now, interrupts to suggest they all take a break and resume in half an hour.

As she’s getting up, she fumbles with her coat and nearly drops it.

‘It’s alright, you know.’

The first interviewer is still watching her, a mug of the horrible tasting coffee halfway to her mouth.

‘I- I’m sorry?’

‘You don’t need to keep the act up. We’re moving on like you wanted, no need for overkill.’

‘What?’

‘You could have just SAID you weren’t comfortable answering. No need to turn on the waterworks.’

The woman pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her bag and makes for the exit leading to the carpark: Kitty is left at the table, alone, confused, a little scared.

A voice in her head:  _ ‘Manipulative whore- do you think I can’t see what you’re up to-’ _

She’d hoped she’d never have to hear that voice again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is plotless because I will never tired of the queens taking care of Kitty in their own ways.
> 
> Let me know what you think, please please!

*

It plays on her mind the whole way home, as she makes the entire journey again in reverse- complete with two missed busses, one delayed train, one spilled latte, one woman blowing cigarette smoke in her face and one man hitting her in the shins with his briefcase all the way to Islington.

_ Is _ she manipulative?

Henry always said she was- and if it’s something that even the interviewer was able to pick up on….?

She hasn’t thought about Henry- intentionally- for a while: she deliberately blocks him from her mind when she can.

Now though, a seed of doubt takes root: was he right? 

_ Is _ there something fundamentally wrong with her?

She gets home late, refuses dinner. The others have already eaten- they’ve saved a plate for her and kept it warming in the oven but she has no appetite and she shakes her head when Jane asks if she’d like something else, disappearing to her room as soon as she can.

Dreams that she’d thought were over and done with keep her tossing restlessly all night, caught in the gulf between sleeping and waking when everything is a little unreal. She knows the stiff-stern faces of the courtroom and the smell of blood are just her own mind but she’s less sure about the feeling of a hand against her hair- caressing rather than grasping, for once. It’s not Anna’s hand, she knows, so it  _ must _ be a dream.

(It’s still soothing though. She wouldn’t mind dreaming that again.)

When she rouses slightly near morning (the black shadows of her room are turning to grey), she’s mildly surprised to see that her covers are tucked snugly around her for once rather than kicked to the floor as they usually are after a nightmare.

It’s very strange.

She’d gone to bed the night before with her whole body aching and her head gently throbbing, but she’d set her alarm as usual, of course.

It doesn’t wake her though.

Instead, she’s been woken by the movement: a steaming mug of tea is set down on her bedside table.

‘Mmmmm?’

‘It’s only me, love’ Jane perches on the edge of the bed and reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. ‘We thought you-’

Before she can finish, Kitty's eyes come to rest on her alarm clock and she sits bolt upright in bed, heart suddenly pounding.

‘Jane! It’s late- I’m late, I forgot to set the alarm, I’m so sorry-’

How could she have messed up like this? Was she such an idiot she couldn't be trusted to press a button? Henry would have said so, had he been asked. He’d never liked her for her mind, he’d made that clear, had even made a fuss in the early days of enjoying her innocence and naivety...later, as the glow wore off, what he’d first found endearing had come to irritate him more and more.

‘It’s alright!’ Jane gently presses her back against her pillows and hands her the mug of tea. It’s warmth is soothing. ‘It’s alright, don't worry, you didn't forget….we all thought you would need as much rest as you could get, after the week you've had, so I turned it off so you could have a bit longer.’ Her smile falters. ‘I’m sorry, I know it was terribly invasive but you just looked so weary last night-’

She feels a pang of guilt- for making Jane worry about her and now for making her feel bad for doing something nice. It’s not Jane’s fault- there’s no way Jane could know what being late for things meant for her.

_ (‘A disgrace….not fit to be queen….My punishment for allowing myself to be bewitched by some ignorant chit-’) _

She takes a sip of the tea to drown out the words- it’s sweet, with cinnamon and honey, the way Jane always makes it, and it gives her something else to focus on, momentarily at least.

‘Won't we be late though?’

‘No, we should be fine, you’ve still got time to get ready- and ten minutes wont hurt just this once, even if we do get held up. No one will mind.’

The easy way Jane brushes it off is astounding- Henry had always been terribly impatient, huffing and tapping his foot even if she was early, reminding her that lateness was the ultimate mark of disrespect.

Jane doesn’t look at all worried about this, but then again, Jane would never have to worry about being thought rude. No one, she thinks, could ever claim that against the blonde queen- her soft smile is the antithesis of anything even slightly negative.

‘Ok- thank you for the tea.’

‘You’re welcome, love.’

It shouldn’t make her so happy, Jane calling her that- she knows it doesn’t mean anything at all, that Jane uses it with all the queens and is most likely only including Kitty to keep her from feeling left out.

(Still, it does. Make her happy, that is.)

Entering the kitchen, hair still wet from her hurried shower, she has to dodge around Catalina, who’s carrying a plate of Nutella toast. It smells wonderful and her stomach growls but she knows there's no time to make any for herself- she can make do with an apple from the fruit bowl if there are any left.

(It’s fine. She’s gone without food before. Sometimes- like last night- it’s been out of her own choice. Other times…..it hasn’t.)

Catalina sets the plate on the table but makes no move to sit down. Instead, she just stands there, looking expectantly at Kitty.

‘Go on, mija.’

She’s still perplexed and wonders if she's in the way, if Catalina wants something from the countertop behind her- but even when she jumps hurriedly to the side, mumbling an apology, the woman is still just looking at her.

‘It’ll go cold.’

‘What?’

Coming towards her, Catalina gently guides her into a kitchen chair (she resists the urge to flinch away and feels mildly proud of herself), then pushes the plate in front of her. 

‘Eat, mija.’

‘Oh no-’ She pushes the plate away as if it's red hot. This is not what she intended, she never wanted to guilt Catalina into giving away her own breakfast.

Why did she have to let herself stare at the woman’s food, of course that would make her feel uncomfortable-

_ (‘Trying to play the innocent, we all know what you’re doing-’) _

‘It’s yours-’

Catalina laughs. ‘I made it for  _ you _ , Kitty. Jane said you’d be coming down a bit late.’ She tilts her head, a teasing note in her voice. ‘You think I would willingly choose that sticky-sweet stuff for myself?’

It’s true, now she thinks about it- Catalina detests Nutella, has made clear her view that marmalade or plain butter are the only acceptable accompaniments to toast. Perhaps it really is for her- although why the queen would make her breakfast, she doesn't know. 

Unless…. She’d be lying if she said people had never done nice things for her, back in her old life. They did, Henry especially- gifts and favours, trinkets and gowns and jewels.

The trouble was never the present, it always came after: she always managed to spoil things. She was never grateful enough, she never responded properly, she’d say the wrong thing or not notice quickly enough….there was always something.

(The ‘scenes’ were so frequent she even- once or twice- found herself wondering whether the gifts, the favours, the surprises were really secondary to him, whether what he really wanted was the chance to berate her for her selfishness and ingratitude. She knew that suspecting such a thing in her own husband- in the King, no less- was unforgivable- but still, little things- the glint in his eye, the flush of his cheek, the glow it gave him, the way it seemed to divert him from his pain like nothing else did- made her wonder, even as she condemned her own soul in the process.)

She wonders if Catalina is doing the same thing- although it’s somehow much harder to suspect it of the woman in front of her than it was to suspect it of Henry. Catalina is imposing and a little bit scary- but she’s also straightforward to the point of bluntness, her feelings always absolutely clear.

(She wonders if it makes her a bad person that she’s more suspicious of her own husband than of a near-stranger.)

Catalina’s still watching her, her expression softer than usual.

‘You can eat it, mija. Really. Everything is ok.’

There’s nothing at all insistant in the woman’s tone- she doesn’t sound cross, only the slightest bit sad- but Kitty doesn’t think she has it in her to outright refuse….and actually, she doesn’t really want to.

She  _ is _ hungry.

She takes a bite; it’s heavenly, in the way that food only tastes when you’re starving.

‘Good?’

‘Perfect. Thank you, you really didn't have to go to the trouble-’

‘You need a proper breakfast after your long day yesterday.’ She shrugs. ‘It was no trouble at all.’

She sounds like she means it- indeed, she doesn't even wait for, let alone ask for, more thanks. 

‘I’m going to go make sure Cathy is still getting ready-’

She smiles at Kitty as she says it, as if it’s something they’re in on together, although Cathy’s ability to get sidetracked halfway through something is not exactly a secret- and it’s funny, how she says it- fondly, as if getting distracted is an endearing personality trait and not a mark of laziness.

(Even when she’s chiding Cathy for making them all late, she never sounds angry and Cathy- even when she sounds contrite- never sounds at all frightened.)

Although….Kitty supposes she can see the difference. Cathy, after all, never makes herself late on purpose- she’s just interested in too many things to keep her mind focused entirely on something as mundane as getting dressed or cleaning her teeth, and she always manages to make whatever she’s been distracted by sound like the most fascinating thing in the world, at least to Kitty. 

There’s something nice about how happy and excited Cathy looks when she’s explaining something she’s interested in- all shiny eyed- that makes Kitty feel all warm and special that Cathy is including her in it rather than keeping all the interest just for herself, although of course she knows it’s nothing at all to do with her. She knows Cathy only explains things to her because she can’t  _ not _ tell anybody and everybody, and because she doesn’t actually know yet that Kitty isn’t clever enough to be worth telling things to.

_ (‘There’s no point in explaining anything to you- as if you’d understand anyway, it would be a waste of my time-’) _

If she did know, Kitty’s sure she wouldn’t bother.

The thought makes her feel a little bit sad. 

(She hopes Cathy doesn’t find out any time soon.)

Her thoughts are interrupted by Anne popping her head around the door, dropping her pink tote in the doorway- ‘Here, Kitkat-’ and then vanishing again.

(Anne always calls her Kitkat- she never responds to or draws attention to the nickname in any way because she’s very much afraid Anne will stop if she does.)

When she picks the bag up so she can pack it, she finds it’s unusually heavy- her things have been gathered for her, her rehearsal clothes (that she was lamenting not having had time to wash) are folded into a neat bundle and smell freshly-laundered, of Anne’s fancy detergent that she buys online and won’t let anyone else use. Her pink water bottle is full, an unfamiliar tupperware holds a sandwich and some cherry tomatoes. There are carrot sticks- peeled and cut evenly, an apple, a cereal bar.

It’s funny, considering Anne frequently forgets to do her own laundry, that she’s rarely seen Anne’s own lunch consist of anything other than leftovers. Sometimes she forgets it all together and just subsists on snacks from the vending machine.

(Kitty occasionally suspects Anne of forgetting on purpose since she usually announces her ‘slip of the mind’ with a beaming smile and once stuck her tongue out triumphantly at Cathy when she caught her looking longingly at Anne’s pack of Oreos.)

She wants to call Anne back, to apologise for making her go to so much extra trouble for her, to promise that she wasn’t being lazy on purpose, that she was just too tired last night to be able to contemplate laundry or making lunch but that she never expected anyone else to have to step in….but it’s too late.

(She hopes Anne isn’t too annoyed at the extra work. She probably is.)

Anna is the last one to the car, rubbing sleep from her eyes and finger combing her short hair into place, and Kitty feels her shoulders sink in relief as Anna climbs into the back next to her.

It’s not that she doesn’t like the others, it’s not even that there’s anything wrong, she just….feels better when Anna is there.

Like she can breathe more easily.

(It’s always been like that. She once asked Anna if the air was different in Richmond because it was so far away from London, since she never felt her chest getting tight and her throat closing up on her when she visited. Anna had told her that Richmond Palace was still London, that actually, they weren’t far from court at all. For some reason, she’d looked terribly sad.)

‘Morning, Kitty- did you sleep well?’

She nods, breathing in Anna’s comforting shampoo-body-spray-leather-jacket smell.

‘I had the weirdest dream, I-’ She breaks off, clipping her seatbelt into place and leaning forward to jab Anne in the shoulder. ‘Anne, listen, I had the weirdest dream about you-’

‘Ow! That fucking hurt!’

‘Listen though, you were in my dream-’

‘Oh my god, you’re such a stalker-’

‘Shut up, just listen, we were at this park, right and there was this man-’

Kitty leans back in her seat and listens to them bicker and laugh, as Cathy fiddles with the radio dial and Jane reminds them all to put on their seatbelts (‘We are  _ not  _ leaving until  _ everybody _ has- Catalina, if you pull out  _ as I’m saying it, _ then it just defeats the purpose-’ ‘Look, as long as Kitty and Cathy are strapped in, it’s fine- Anne and Anna can take their chances as far as I’m concerned-’ ‘Hey!’), as Catalina mutters darkly in Spanish at the other cars on the road.

‘- and he was that man from the news, with the moustache, and you kept running up to him and telling him he needed to hurry because it was nearly Christmas-’

‘This had better get really weird really fast or it’s the most boring dream ever-’

‘Shut up, you made me listen to that whole dream about you just being in the Tesco queue-’

She likes listening to Anne and Anna usually- they’re fast and funny and cutting in a way she could never be- but it makes her sad too.

Anne is  _ her  _ cousin after all.

She doesn’t join in. She doesn’t even know how she’d join in.

She leans back and listens to them spar and wishes she could make Anne laugh that hard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty is Struggling.

It’s hard when they begin- she’s a few steps behind the other queens as they get started and it’s worrying- these are only the warm up exercises after all.

The vocal exercises all go alright- even though it’s a bit of an effort to keep from swaying in her spot. She finds herself wishing very hard that for once they could just sit down for these bits. (Really, would it really hurt?)

It makes her feel a stab at annoyance- at the director for not letting them, at the other queens for not minding…. Perhaps if they all complained, they’d be allowed to sit down to sing. Common sense smoothes her irritation almost immediately- it's no one's fault, she knows that really.

But still.

She’s tired.

She pushes through as best she can- though her head begins to ache for real, though her dancing is noticeably off.

She can see the other queens shooting each other concerned glances and tries to pick up the pace but it's hard- they keep asking if she wants to take a break and she shakes her head each time.

She can't quite tell why they’re asking. To shame her? To make her realise that she can see she's not up to scratch today? 

_ (‘You’re looking tired, Lady Howard. You’re an embarrassment, did you know that?’) _

Although there's something, something in how Anna touches her arm, how Jane looks her over with concern that makes her wonder if maybe, just maybe they’re asking sincerely. 

She wonders what would happen if she took them up on their offer- would they scold her for laziness or just nod and agree and join her?

It’s risky.

Although it wasn't for the fact that she fears that if she sits down she will surely not be able to get back up again, she would perhaps take them up on it.

Perhaps.

**

The group numbers are hard but her solo song is harder.

It’s a hard song, full stop- if she doesn't carefully pay attention to her breathing, it's all too easy to run out of air before the end of a line, and she has to be very very careful about how she moves to avoid accidently jabbing a queen in the face.

(Anna swears she nearly lost an eye to Kitty’s left hand nails more than once.)

Moreover, it just takes up so much  _ energy _ \- mental as well as physical.

The whiplash fast mood change, the need to balance comedic timing and emotional gravity are hard to get right- it’s important that the audience takes the right message away from it after all.

And she wants them too, she does (she’d written the song herself after all.)

Today though, she just doesn’t have the energy for it- not for the singing itself but also not to muster up the level of emotion the lyrics require. It’s not easy, finding a way to simulate real emotion for the benefit of the audience without actually letting herself get pulled down by the undertow- there is after all, still the rest of the show to get through, and she knows from experience the consequences of letting herself get too caught up in what she’s doing.

(Her face still feels hot when she remembers one of their early run-throughs, when she let herself get too into it and ended up crying herself into a panic attack in Anna’s arms afterwards. Not that she’s even the only one- she’s seen Jane’s lips tremble for real when finishing her own song, the heartbreak plain on her face. She wonders how it would feel to be loved by someone that much.)

Fans often comment on how heartbreaking her performance is, sometimes asking how she’s able to feel so much night after night- it’s hard to explain that really, it’s all performative grief, that in the midst of a real breakdown, she wouldn’t be capable of gracefully pushing hands away in time to the music and hitting all the notes. 

Her real dark moments do not involve dramatic wails of tuneful anguish but damp muffled choking sobs and scabs on her fingertips from where she bites around her nails and not having the energy to shower. 

No one wants to see that onstage, so she gives them the choreographed approximation of it instead. At least, she tries to.

Today, her first attempt sounds flat even to her own ears and it isn’t a surprise when the director asks if she can try again.

She’s just about able to get the choreography right; it’s the song that’s the problem.

Her perky innuendos just sound limp, her descriptions of Dereham and Mannox distinctly lack lustre. It doesn’t sound as if she cares that much.

And honestly she doesn’t- she’s tired, she’s achy and she’s internally cursing herself for having been such an idiot as to have thought that four choruses was a good idea.

‘Do you want to try again Katherine?’

She tries. And tries.

‘More emotion, Katherine, please!’

‘I’m just not  _ feeling  _ that last line- are you feeling it?’

She shakes her head.

Tries again.

‘We want them to laugh but then realise what they’re laughing at- you need to be entirely wholehearted here-’

And again.

Eventually, the director tries going earnest: ‘You’re singing this on behalf of the vulnerable girls in the audience Katherine. You need to feel like you’re singing this song for them and if you don’t give it your all-’

Her words trail off but the meaning is clear: you’re letting them down, you’re letting everyone down.

Of course, letting people down isn’t a new thing for her.

_ (‘-letting me down, embarrassing me like that, how dare you? How DARE you?’) _

She tries again, really really tries, but before she’s even half way through, she can tell from the disappointed looks that it still isn’t right, and suddenly she can’t take it any longer.

Letting down herself and her fellow queens and the rest of the crew is one thing but now she can’t stop thinking of all the other people she’s failing, the young girls, the vulnerable young women…. She failing them because she isn’t good enough.

(A better person would do….well, better.)

And underneath all of it, she can also feel the tiniest glint of shameful relief- because if she’s still not getting it now, maybe they’ll realise she won’t get it at all, maybe they’ll give up, move onto Cathy’s song and be finished a little earlier- 

Henry’s voice is back, but this time, it isn’t a memory, but Henry, here with her, judging her, hating her-  _ Of course you feel like that. Because you're selfish. What kind of person doesn't care? It just shows you deserved everything- they all saw this part of you, this thing inside you, this badness, that meant it was ok for everyone to do what they did. Good people aren't treated like you were, Katherine- _

‘Katherine? Katherine?’

‘Kitty?’

‘Are you ok, mija?

There are too many voices clamouring for her attention and it’s making the huge theatre feel uncomfortably crowded. She can’t breathe- so she escapes.

Muttering something about needing to use the bathroom, she breaks free of the others, of their concerned eyes and reaching hands, and rushes offstage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Kitty talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight pause!  
> I've been working hard on trying to get Kitty's inner-Henry right.... and to properly show the absolute agony of trying to negotiate non-fucked up conversations when you're used to....a certain degree of fucked-up-ness as normal.  
> I hope I did it justice- feedback is always so very welcome please!

In the bathroom, she splashes water on her face and leans her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, willing her eyes to stop stinging and her breathing to go back to normal before she has to face the others again. The last thing she needs is to have to explain herself.

It isn’t long though before there’s a tap at the outer door.

_ Well, at least they aren’t just coming straight in…. _

‘Kitty?’

Wearily she wipes her eyes: it will cause more of a fuss if she refuses to answer, as if she’s manipulating them into being more concerned than necessary.

‘You can come in, Anna’

‘Are you ok?’

She begins to nod, mostly out of habit, but as she does, she feels her face crumple and the tears return.

‘I’m- fine-’

‘No you’re not.’ Anna’s arms are not the same arms that had comforted her in their first friendship but they’re just as warm. ‘But you will be.’

‘I’m- sorry’ Her voice catches in her throat, and she nearly chokes on it. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong- what’s wrong with me-’

By rights, Anna should push her away for making a fuss over nothing but she doesn’t. (She never has done.)

‘Just one of those days?’ There’s no judgement, just understanding, as if Anna too is guilty of interrupting rehearsals to whine beside a sink.

She lets her heavy head rest in the hollow of Anna's neck. She doesn’t have the strength to lie. ‘I’m…..so tired. Of everything.’

‘I know, liebling. Do you remember, you said the same thing to me back then?’

She does remember. Her fourth day as a Maid In Waiting, still walking on pins with the anxiety of being officially in Royal Service, still unable to find her way around the enormous palace and, as consequence, late for every one of her duties. When the new queen-to-be had singled her out and called her to speak privately, she’d expected a scolding- or worse, to be sent home in disgrace.

‘I was so homesick. Court wasn’t how I'd imagined it.’

‘It wasn’t how I’d imagined it either- but d’you know, seeing that you were new to everything too made me feel so much less alone. It made things easier, I could worry about how you were getting on, rather than thinking about how strange it was for me-’

‘I thought I was in trouble- but you were so kind…..’

(It’s funny, in a sick sort of way, to think that sending her home in disgrace is, in hindsight, the very kindest thing Anna could have done for her then.)

‘I’m glad you thought so.’

‘You said it would get easier....’

‘I did. I was wrong then, I think.’

She gave the tiniest of nods and Anna tightens her hold.

‘It will be easier this time though. I promise.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I'm going to take better care of you, this time around.’

She says it so very certainly, as if it’s something she’s been thinking for a while. Kitty pulls away slightly. 

‘You don't need to, Anna.’ She doesn’t want to make herself anyone’s duty. All duties, even those taken on willingly, pall over time, she knows. ‘I know what I’m like, but honestly I can take care of myself.’

Anna looks at her oddly. ‘What do you think you’re like?’

It’s the sort of question that was usually a trap- it makes her anxious. It reminds her of conversations with Henry, round and round, trying to escape a snare that she couldn't see coming until she was already inside it.

( _ ‘What did you mean by that? What are you really saying? What does this mean?’ _ He was always better tuned to picking up the intricacies of what she ‘really meant’ than she was. She usually didn’t even realise that she’d said something grossly offensive- or ungrateful or cruel- until he pointed it out to her.)

‘I’m didn’t mean- I’m sorry- I-’

Oh Kitty’ Anna reaches out a hand and instinctively, she flinches away. It’s just a twitch but she still feels dreadful for it…. She’s sure Anna will be hurt by her lack of trust.

But when she takes Kitty’s face in both of her hands, her dark eyes are full of love. They made the tight bands across her chest loosen slightly.

‘Look at me. I promise I'm not upset with you, liebling. I’m not getting cross. I was just asking because I'd like to know, so that I can reassure you. Ok?’

There’s a moment before she can make herself respond.

‘Ok.’

Anna gives a little nod for her to continue.

‘Ok. I-’ She takes a breath that is only a bit shaky. ‘I’m-’ It’s hard but she makes herself, Anna deserves that much at least. ‘I’m….not a good person. I…. think things. And I say things. And-’ She sucks in a quick gulp of air. Being this honest is hard, she feels as if she’s breaking herself open. ‘And...I’m afraid that over time, you and the others, you’ll start to see things in me, soon, and I’m afraid of that, that you’re maybe seeing them already-’

Anna's thumb brushes away the wetness on her cheek, her face calm. ‘What things, liebling?’

‘That I’m-’ Her voice catches. She’s afraid to list her worst traits to Anna in case it makes her notice them, she’s even more afraid that they won’t come as a surprise ‘That I’m selfish. That I'm….bad. Like earlier- when they said that I was singing for vulnerable girls, that by making my song better, I was supporting them?’

‘Yes’

‘And my thought- my first thought? Was just… that I didn't care.’ She talks faster, she wants to get it over with. ‘That I was too tired to think about that, that I just wanted to get on with things, even if the song wasn't quite right, just so it could be over. And that's- I know that’s terrible but it’s...its how I felt-’

_ (‘Selfish, selfish girl, selfish girl, you have a cruel soul and a hard heart. What sort of person would think such things? What sort of person wouldn’t sicken at putting herself first in every case, what sort of person could live with themselves?’) _

Tears blur Anna's face and she’s glad of it- she doesn’t want to see the shock and rejection that she deserves. The moment stretches like elastic, longer and longer- and then Anna moves and she flinches away again, from the blow that she expects, that she surely deserves this time- and instead, she feels herself being pulled back into the safety of Anna's arms.

‘Oh liebling. Oh Kitty.’

‘Im sorry, I-’

‘Shhhh, it’s alright.’ Anna’s voice is heavy with emotion and it sounds odd. ‘I promise you- Kitty, I promise you, there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. You’re- you’re lovely-’

‘I’m not, I’m-’

Anna talks over her.

‘You’re worn out, of course you wanted it to be over. That doesn't make you selfish, that doesn't make you bad, it makes you normal.’

There's so much sincerity in Anna’s tone that it’s hard, for a moment at least, to disbelieve her.

‘Why don't I feel like it?’

‘ _ Because _ you’re a good person. Do you think bad people spend time worrying about being good? No.’ Anna doesn’t wait for a response. ‘No, they don’t. But you do. Because you care.’

Anna is waiting for a sign of agreement, and it’s hard but she doesn't have it in her to lie, even to give Anna the reassurance she wants. She shakes her head slowly, feeling the tears come back- (‘ _ You’re just trying to make her feel guilty, to milk more sweet words and reassurance from her. She’ll tire of it, soon enough-’ _ ) but Anna doesn't look annoyed, just cuddles her close again, while Kitty grips the back of her shirt. 

‘That’s ok. I'll….just keep reminding you until you believe me.’ Anna’s voice holds a smile. ‘I can be very persistent, you know...Remember my battle with Anne over the pillow?’

She does, and it’s enough to shake a weak laugh out of her. Anna chuckles too and moves a hand up to rub her tight shoulders.

‘The others will agree with me, you know.’

Anna says it with conviction but she knows she's wrong somehow. She isn’t sure if she wants to try to convince Anna of it though.

‘I…..I don't know if i want to keep talking about this now-please-’

Anna doesn’t look irritated at her attempt to end the conversation. (It had always infuriated Henry though.)

‘That’s ok, you must be exhausted.’

‘Just a bit...’

Anna detaches slightly to pass her some tissues, and waits silently while Kitty dries her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time. They’re already feeling sore and swollen.

‘Are you ready to go back?’

‘Not really.’

‘Ok.’

‘But we should.’

She knows she’ll have to face them sometime after all.

‘Ok.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our stupid, careless, evil excuse for a PM has basically okayed the deaths of hundreds of people in the coming weeks and months because god forbid the government take responsibility for the absolute circus that this pandemic has been so far.  
> I'm depressed as fuck about it, so if anybody wants to join me in escaping it via fanfic, do go ahead.

When they go back into the theatre, she's still tucked under Anna's arm: Anna hasn’t disengaged her and she can’t quite bring herself to move away until she has to.

The others aren't practising,as she hoped they would be, and they aren’t even lounging in their usual breaktime spots. Instead, they’re sitting in an anxious huddle close to the door. 

Cathy taps her foot, and Anne is gripping the neck of her water bottle rather too tightly.

‘Kitty!’

‘Are you alright?’

‘What happened?’

She gives a small nod-shrug and presses closer to Anna. She doesn’t really want to have to go over the whole thing with them again, she’s sure there will be some eye-rolling at the very least.

Anna tries to shrug off their concern. ‘She’s just having a hard day, everything is fine.’

There’s a shift in energy- no one quite believes her, no one seems to want to probe, and she’s just wondering if anyone is mentally tallying up how many minutes of rehearsal time she’s wasted, or how much this will be held against her, when Cathy steps forward and hands Kitty her water bottle.

‘It can be really hard, having to do the high-emotion thing all the time.’ She gives Kitty a small sympathetic smile. ‘You did well to keep on so long though, I’d have cracked much earlier.’

Funnily enough, she doesn’t sound impatient. In fact, she’s oddly matter of face- as if Kitty’s histrionics were par of the course, as opposed to a sign of deep-rooted personal weakness.

‘You saved me from begging for mercy, I thought I was going to pass out after the fifth time-’

‘God, same-’

Suddenly, they’re all nodding and chipping in about how tired they were getting, and it’s on the tip of Kitty’s tongue to apologise (if only she’d been more with it, they wouldn’t have had to keep doing her song) when Aragon cuts in.

‘Shall we take a break? I think we’re due one anyway.’

Anne jumps at the Spanish queen’s suggestion- ‘God yes. I forgot to get any coffee this morning-’ and half sits, half collapses to the floor, dramatically. 

The others group around her. She can’t deny that she’s grateful for the chance to sit down at last but she also can’t help eying the time nervously.

‘I’m sorry for- delaying everything-’ 

‘Oh love-’ Jane leans forward, drawing Kitty into her arms and hugging her tightly. It’s not familiar like Anna but still warm, still soft- still comforting, despite the fact that she’s still a little nervous around Jane (around all of them) and that it’s totally unexpected. 

Jane’s embrace feels nice though- not suffocating as she imagined, but safe, something she might even be able to get used to.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for’ Aragon adds decisively.

Still, she still feels like she owes them more of an explanation.

‘I’m sorry I ruined the rehearsal, I was just-’ She swallows. ‘-really tired-’

It's not an explanation at all, she knows that- she's had it drummed into her that personal weakness is no excuse for shrinking of duties, but still it’s the only explanation she has.

She holds her breath, waiting for the eye rolls and sighs (or worse, the anger that she’s clearly not  _ really  _ sorry at all but lying in order to manipulate them into feeling sorry for her)- but the other queens just nod as if she’s not only justified but reasonable.

‘We shouldn’t have made you do that awful journey yesterday-’

‘We should have just told them no-’

‘God, we fucked up….’

Jane lets her go so that Anne can fling an arm around her instead, and it’s funny, to see her cousin- who she can still barely talk to- be so indignant on her behalf. As if she- and her welfare-  _ matter. _

‘We should have made you stay home!’

Aragon nods ruefully. ‘Yes. I think we dropped the ball a bit.’

‘We should have taken better care of you-’

The words make her throat fill with anxiety. How has she managed to do it again, to twist these poor women into guilt on her behalf?

_ (Because that’s what you do, that’s what you’re like, you manipulate people, you hurt people, you use people- and they’ll see through it eventually, they’ll all see through it, and they’ll hate you, they’ll hate you-) _

‘No, I’m sorry, I’m alright, I’m fine-’

‘Kitty-’

‘I’m sorry, I was lazy-’ She can feel the words are coming too fast but she can’t stop them. ‘I’ll be better, we don’t need to stop-’

‘Kitty, it’s alright-’

She pulls herself away from Anna’s side and stands up, she needs to show them how this isn’t an act, she’s being sincere, she’s not trying to guilt them or force them to coddle her-

‘I’m fine-’ She's almost panting with the effort of assuring them she’s ok, that she’s not going to be any trouble. Her eyes are stinging again. 

The other queens are standing too, but not in a good way, like they’re listening to her and believing her.

They’re looking like they’re still worried, like she's somehow still managing to trick them. She doesn’t know how to make them believe her, although she’s trying, she's trying  _ so _ hard- and a sob that she can’t hold back escapes her.

‘Kitty-’ Aragon steps in front of her, blocking off the others and placing her hands gently onto her shoulders, and she flinches, waiting for it- whatever it is- to come. ‘You need to calm down, alright? Just slow down. Can you do that for me?’

She nods, gulping. She doesn’t want to make Aragon any angrier, after all. Out of all of the others, Aragon is indisputably the most intimidating- the oldest, the most poised. Her hands, through, are surprisingly gentle.

‘Good.’ Aragon slowly presses her back down to her place on the floor. She’s much too nervous of the woman to spring back up, and the others sink back too, looking worried. 

‘No one is cross, love. No one thinks you’re lazy.’ Jane reaches out as if to touch her and then pulls herself back with effort when Kitty flinches again.

She can't say anything without contradicting her directly so she doesn't.

‘Why does the idea of being taken care of upset you so much, mija?’

Aragon is looking at her intently, like she’s waiting for an answer, but Anne leans forward when she shifts uncomfortably.

‘You don't have to answer Kitty-’

‘That's true.’ Surprisingly, Aragon doesn't bite off Anne’s head for interrupting. ‘But I'd like her to tell me- tell us, if she can.’ She looks at Kitty persistently. ‘Kitty? Has someone made you think you shouldnt be looked after?’

She can't unstick her tongue enough to defy Aragon- and she’d never have the courage anyhow, so she nods, partly because it's true and she's afraid to lie, partly because it doesn’t require talking.

‘Was it someone recently?’

She gives a tiny shake of the head. It only _ feels _ recent.

‘You know they were wrong though, right?’

She shakes her head again and Anna looks puzzled.

‘Kitty?’

She knows she's going to have to explain, if only to stop them all from looking at her. More than ever, she wants their eyes off of her.

She takes a deep shaky breath.

‘You don’t understand… I….I’m doing it again. I’m trying not to but I am- and it’s not fair on you all, because you’re all really nice but-’

‘Doing what?’

She doesn’t want to tell them but she has to, she has to take ownership of herself, that was how Henry always put it.

‘Manipulating you….making you feel sorry for me.’ She swipes at her cheeks. ‘It’s just how I am but I want to be better, I’m trying to be better-’

‘How are you manipulating us, Kitty?’ Aragon’s voice is very calm, very measured. 

‘I’m making you feel sorry for me….to- to get what I want-’

‘And what do you want?’

She doesn’t understand- the softness of Aragon’s question, as if she hasn’t just admitted to being a terrible person, the neutral curiosity in the faces of the others, as if they haven’t been giving her sympathy and kindness undeservedly.

‘I want- I want to rest.’ She’s trembling. ‘I want to stop and I know I can’t, I know this is my job and it’s not harder on me than it is on you, I do know it, I do, but still-’ Her voice cracks. ‘I’m making you all feel sorry for me rather than just getting on with it, and-’ She chokes on the words ‘I know you’ll see what I’m like and I’m so afraid you’ll hate me for me it, but as much as I try, I can’t...I can’t be better-’

She’s crying too hard to go on, and she’s waiting for their reactions- for their anger, their betrayal, their disgust, or even just for them to get up and go, leaving her alone. 

(She can’t even decide which would be worse.)

There’s a silence- a silence that drags out forever, and then movement, and she braces herself- only to find herself being scooped back into Jane’s arms and held tightly against her soft chest, and at the same time, there’s a babble of voices.

‘Oh-’

‘Oh Kitty-’

‘Oh my god-’

They don’t sound angry exactly, as much as they sound horrified, but somehow, none of it seems to be directed at  _ her _ .

‘Oh love- you’re not doing anything wrong, you’re not a bad person...’

‘It doesn't make you bad to want a break, it doesn’t mean you're manipulating us if we notice-’

‘Kit, why would you even think such a thing?’

‘You don't-’ she pulls herself away from Jane and looks round at them, desperate to make them  _ understand _ . ‘You don’t know me- he, he knew me, he knew what I was like-

‘Henry?’

She nods, sniffling. ‘You’re all lovely but- you’re lovely but you don't know me, if you did, you'd see the things in me that he did. And you will see them, eventually, and I-’ She presses a hand to her mouth. ‘I- I know you’ll hate me when you do-’

‘What did he say to you, Kitty?’ Anne leans in, intent, and then squeezes her hand. ‘Tell us.’

‘I can’t-’

‘You can. Please, Kitty. We want to understand.’ She looks round at the others. ‘Don’t we?’

They all nod. 

She supposes she owes it to Anne- her only cousin, who she's let down so much already by being so very useless- to be honest.

She takes a breath, wills herself to be brave.

‘He….he could see that I was lazy. He said he could tell I couldn't make myself stick to- to anything. That I was stupid- really stupid, I couldnt understand things he’d tell me, really simple things-’ She wonders if any of them are nodding, if they’re looking at each other like  _ ‘Ah yes, I see it now’ _ . ‘He said he noticed how I would make people feel sorry for me to get out of things- that I knew how to make people do what I want, that I liked it. That he could see I liked the control. That I was…’ This is the hardest to say. ‘That I was bad. A nasty person. Cruel. That’s….that’s all.’ 

But she knows it’s quite enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be SO good to hear what people think of how the queens confront Kitty's mindset and whether you think it sounds effective/realistic or not!
> 
> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments so far, they make my day and fuel my writing!

She waits, biting her lip, for them to shuffle uncomfortably and exchange glances, she waits for them to widen their eyes, the ‘ _ Ohhh yes I see it now _ !’ moment that she’s been dreading since she met them.

What she doesn't expect is for Cathy to give a very unqueenlike snort of laughter.

‘Oh my  _ GOD _ !’

It’s even worse than anything she could have expected from any of them, and fresh tears sting her eyes even though she’s trying desperately hard not to be so pathetic.

Anne swats her hard. ‘Cathy! For fucks sake, don’t be such a bitch!’ She moves closer to Kitty and puts a hand on her arm as Catalina shoots Cathy a look that sobers her quickly. ‘It’s ok Kit, she doesn’t mean it like that-’

‘Oh!’ Cathy’s eyes widen. ‘Oh no I didn’t- Kitty, I wasn’t laughing AT you, I swear, just- you know-’ She waves her hands expansively. ‘Snap!’

‘What?’ She’s so confused but Anna is nodding and even Anne is looking at Cathy like she’s been placated by the explanation.

‘He said exactly the same to me- to the letter, almost,’ Cathy explains. ‘ _ You have a cruel soul, Lady Parr _ -’ Her attempt at imitating Henry is not especially skilled but it somehow makes Kitty want to flinch back all the same, and it’s only the fact that Cathy is substituting her own name that she doesn’t. 

It’s also very odd though- because Cathy’s soul could never ever be described as anything close to cruel, she knows.

She remembers Cathy spending a whole evening patiently hunting down a spider that had gotten itself lost in the living room, both to reassure Jane and Anne that the threat of it crawling on either of them was entirely neutralised and to save the creature from being trodden on- accidently or not.

(Like Anne and Jane, Catalina also dislikes spiders. Unlike them, she is not too afraid to touch them and therefore tends to do so rather firmly and suddenly.) 

She hasn't spoken much to Cathy yet, she’s still awkward when the two of them are alone together, and shy of her in company…..but she knows, perhaps more strongly in this instant than in any other, that Cathy is the very furthest thing from  _ cruel _ .

‘But you’re-’ It bursts out of her, but then she falters, feeling foolish.

‘What, Kitty?’

‘But you’re- lovely-’ She feels her face get hot as she says it, and she wonders if she's embarrassed Cathy too, but when she risks looking up from her lap, the girl is smiling at her warmly. 

‘You’re very sweet.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s a shame Henry wasn’t as nice as you.’

It feels funny to hear it- the idea that she, in some ways, might have been  _ better _ than Henry- head of the church, head of the country, her Lord and Master. 

That he was wrong, in one way at least. 

Perhaps even in lots of ways.

‘Did he really….say those things to you?’

Cathy's face changes, she blinks.

‘Of course.’

‘Why  _ of course _ ? What did you  _ do _ ?’

‘I didn’t do anything-’ Cathy shakes her head, almost impatiently. ‘That was just what he was _ like. _ ’ 

The others are nodding; Anna hums in agreement.

She feels wrong-footed: she’d expected Cathy to list some minor faults that Henry had perhaps judged her overly harshly for. She’d been prepared to explain to Cathy the difference between them.

The others are all looking at her expectantly, as if there’s been some sort of revelation made, but she just doesn’t see it: Henry may have made similar accusations to Cathy in error but that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t right about Kitty.

Catalina leans forward.

‘Kitty, it was nothing to do with you at all. Nothing to do with what you were like or not like.’

‘But he said-’ She doesn’t want to repeat it.

‘He said all kinds of things’ Anna shrugs. ‘It doesn't make them true-’

‘But he knew me, he knew what I was like-’

She can’t explain it properly- she can’t explain that Henry really was only confirming what she and everybody else had known all along, that there was something  _ wrong _ with her. 

(She’d known it, felt it, since childhood, from the moment Mannox looked over at her during their third lesson and smiled hungrily at her, his tongue whetting his lips and a sort of recognition in his eyes: ‘Did you know, you’re very different from the other girls, Katherine…’ At the time, she’d thought it to be a compliment.)

Henry hadn’t been the first to see it, merely the first to put her wrongness into words.

‘And what was he like?’

Anne’s question takes her aback.

‘Henry?’

Anne nods.

‘Well….he was the king. He was….clever. And….handsome-’ She’d never found him so, but she’d been reminded often, by everyone it seemed, that the King in his youth had been the golden prince of Europe. ‘And- and-’

‘Was he kind?’

‘What?’

‘Did you know him to be kind, when you knew him?’ Cathy asks gently.

‘I - I don't know.’

‘So….no.’ Anne is more blunt. ‘And was he honest?’

‘Of course.’ How could the King, chosen by God, not be honest?

‘Did you  _ know _ him to be honest?’ Anna presses. ‘In his dealings with people, in what you saw of how he was?’

‘Yes- I mean no, I mean-’ She falters. ‘Its  _ different _ for a king-’ She tries to remember what it was that he had told her once, back in the early days when her Uncle was pleased with her and she was England’s  _ Rose Without A Thorn _ . ‘He needed to be on top of everyone to keep them in line, so sometimes he had to, to test them, to trap them-’

When he had told her, she had nodded like it made sense but now she’s the one saying it, it doesn’t sound so very-

‘He wasn’t kind, Kitty. He wasn’t honest.’ 

‘But even if- even if-’ 

Even if it’s true- that doesn’t mean he wasn’t right about her.

Anne looks at her seriously. ‘Kitty. He was a cruel old man who liked to hurt people. Liked to mess with them- with their minds. He enjoyed it. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it.’

She thinks back to Henry’s expression when he’d scold servants for things they had or hadn’t done, change his mind in the blink of an eye and then laugh at the confusion.

‘He- he said-’ She can’t remember what he said to explain it, and she’s not even sure now if it’s because she’s forgetting or if it’s because he just never attempted to justify it to her because he saw nothing wrong with it.

‘He said cruel, awful, completely untrue things to you because he wanted to hurt you,’ Anne says flatly.

Cathy nods. ‘It was nothing to do with how you were, with anything you said or did. Don’t you see Kitty, there’s no way you could have been different.’

‘But how do you  _ know _ ?’ She surprises herself that she can’t bring herself to reject the theory outright- as she surely should- but she can’t fully believe it either.

‘Because he said the same things to us- to all of us. Oh, of course he changed it up a bit. He said I was committing the sin of vanity, when I was unhappy that he made mock of my age with his friends.’ 

Catalina says it lightly but there’s the faintest twist to her lips and for a moment, Kitty can see the faintest shadow of a long ago humiliation. She would never have been able to imagine the dauntless, self-contained woman (who can be intimidating even while wearing pajamas and fluffy slippers) being hurt by anything before but now, she actually finds herself feeling a flicker of anger, mixed with sympathy. 

Catalina’s so brave, she’s so clever- how dare anyone (even a king) make her feel lesser, Kitty thinks- how dare  _ Henry _ ?

(She’s never really felt anger towards him before- she hasn’t let herself.)

(The sky does not fall in.)

She doesn’t say anything but perhaps her thoughts play too plainly on her face because Catalina reaches out and squeezes her hand, as if they’re friends, as if they’re on the same side.

It feels a bit strange but there’s a little frisson of solidarity there too, a picture growing in her head of her and Catalina and Cathy and all the others on the same side.

_ Allies. _

In all the lonely months of her marriage, in all the terrifying months of her imprisonment, even as she tortured herself over and over again by thinking of her cousin's fate, of Anna’s abandonment, she never before considered the idea that she and the other wives (just names to her, at that point, apart from Anna) had something in common.

In her own mind, they’d always been separate. Weak.

‘Oh he was excellent at pointing out what was wrong with people-’ Anna breaks in. ‘Never quite enjoyed it so much when people did it to him though, as if we just weren't supposed to notice that he was a-’ 

She visibly bites back her next words when Jane gives her a look and changes tack. ‘He couldn't bear not being seen as he was, it was pathetic really-’

‘He was too used to his golden days’ Anne adds ‘Not that he liked being seen as anything other than perfect even then, he liked having someone to blame things on. Even tiny things, like the general mood dipping, jokes falling flat….He said it was me, that I made the room darker when I came in, spoiled things, put everybody into a bad mood…’

Anne trails off and swallows, then smiles brightly. ‘Everyone said court was duller after I…..left, even historians agree, from what I've read, so it just shows how much he knew!’

‘He said I could make a holiday into a funeral’ Anna adds. ‘He said I was too dull and stupid to enjoy things, or to let other people enjoy them. Of course, I was still learning English so he probably said worse-’

‘He said I was impossible to be around, that I was incapable of just letting things be, that everybody must dread my presence because of it’ Cathy adds. ‘He said I was manipulative, that I forced everybody into having things my way with tricks and lies-’

‘Snap!’ Anne holds up a hand- Cathy high fives her reluctantly and Catalina rolls her eyes with a small smile.

It’s the strangest thing, hearing accusations that she’d considered to be her private shame from the mouths of the others.

Stranger still is the fact that even though hearing them being said out loud makes her want to flinch and cover her ears, she can also feel the tiniest change, the start of a slow leeching of power from the words, as if part of their strength was from their secrecy….

It’s also odd to hear that the insults that she’d always imagined as being unique to her- carefully chosen to describe her personal failings and flaws- have been flung at all the others too.

‘He really was a twat, wasn’t he?’ Anna’s bluntness draws a laugh from everyone before she makes her face serious again. ‘But just because he said all that stuff- to all of us- it doesn’t make it true.’

She’s earnestly looking at Kitty as she talks, as if she’s willing her to believe her.

‘He was an evil old man-’

‘He was a total mindfuck-’

Jane doesn’t say anything- she hasn’t said a word for a while- and Kitty wonders if it’s because it’s hard for her, to hear her husband- her reportedly adoring husband- being spoken about like this.

She wonders if Jane disagrees- and the thought feels unpleasantly sharp. She finds doesn’t  _ want _ Jane to agree with her, to support her in defending Henry- she doesn’t  _ want  _ Jane to see bad, shameful qualities in her.

But when she twists around a bit to see her face, Jane is biting her lip, her eyes suddenly a little too shiny. She doesn’t look shocked- she looks like she understands all too well what they’ve all been talking about.

When she notices Kitty watching her, she smiles, a trifle tremulously.

Catalina catches her eye and tilts her head, a silent question, and Jane shakes her own in response and turns to face Kitty.

‘You’re a good person Kitty. You’re sweet and kind and- and you shouldn’t think any differently about yourself, not for a moment. Not for a second.’

It’s like benediction.

Part of her tells her to keep arguing- it whispers that it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, that again, somehow, she’s managed to ruin things and trick them into coddling her, cosseting her, that they’ll surely be cross when they realise…..

And then Anna gives her hand a squeeze as if cutting off the thought spiral, and she blinks. 

No manipulation, no anger being stored up for later. 

Just five very earnest looking women, doing their absolute best to make her feel better, to make her feel reassured. 

To make her feel  _ loved _ .

She  _ is _ loved, she realises- and for the first time, the thought doesn't bring the sick feeling of guilt, of knowledge that she’s trapping yet more unwary victims….

She looks round at the others- all on her side, all looking out for her…. 

They all look so  _ sincere _ . They all look as if they care so much- and maybe they  _ do _ .

Maybe she can even be worthy of them.

  
(Maybe, whispers a new voice, she already  _ is _ .)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utter utter fluff, because Kitty needed a cosy ending after all the trauma of the earlier chapters!

The conversation drifts away, as Anna’s phone buzzes with a text and Anne starts teasing her when she won’t tell them who it’s from. After a moment, Jane unpeels herself from the group and stands up, has an urgent whispered conversation with the director and comes back.

‘You’re having the rest of the day off, alright love?’

‘What?’ She wonders for a moment if she’s being sent home in disgrace- but Jane doesn’t  _ look  _ annoyed.

‘So you can rest- I checked and Grace is happy to go on as you for the night so it won’t put anyone out.’

‘It’s fine-’ She brushes at her sore, swollen eyes, hoping they go back to normal before the first show.

‘Really Kitty-’ Catalina gently touches her arm. ‘You need to take care of yourself. After all of that….you need some downtime, I think.’ 

She can feel herself blushing at the reference to her….. She isn’t even sure what to call it. She’d know the words if she was back at Court:  _ a disgrace, an embarrassment, a shameful display _ , but she doesn’t feel like the others would quite agree with her somehow.

‘I could still go on-’

‘Of course you could’ Anne stops trying to snatch Anna’s phone and bobs up at her elbow. ‘We Howard girls are tough. Obviously. But you don’t  _ need _ to. You’re allowed to take a day off.’

Perhaps it’s hearing Anna’s words repeated, perhaps it’s the little silly glow she gets at Anne's affirmation of their connection….but she finds herself nodding acquiesce. 

‘Alright…’

When she moves to gather her stuff and starts digging through her purse for bus fare, she’s surprised that the others follow her to the door.

‘Don’t you need to-?’

‘Oh we’ll come back, finish rehearsal of course.’ Catalina waves a hand dismissively. ‘We cleared it with Suzanne- we’ll be back within the hour.’

‘But why?’

‘We wanted to see you safely home first, love.’

‘All of you?’

Anna steps up behind Jane and nods. ‘All of us.’

*

‘It’s my turn to sit in the front-’

‘Well it’s my turn to drive and I refuse to drive with you in the front seat.’

‘Then let someone else drive, and we’ll get Kitty home before midnight-’

Catalina aims a playful swat at Anne’s arm, laughing, and Anne sticks out her tongue like a child. Usually the easy dynamic that seemed to spring up out of nowhere between the two makes Kitty feel wrongfooted, like she's intruding, like she's an imposter being the one related to Anne, when the others know her better...but then Catalina wraps an arm around her shoulders.

‘Kitty can sit in front. You don’t mind, right?’ She asks, quickly. ‘Only you’re the only one I trust not to make me listen to something awful.’

‘Fat chance.’ Anne shakes her head. ‘Kitty is a loyal cousin who would never take my rightful place, right?’

‘Kitty is a kind girl who won't leave me to be subjected to your dreadful taste in screechy, screamy music-’

They're both looking at her and it feels funny, to have them both vying for her favour like this, even if it is a joke, a game. Still it's one she included in- and it makes her feel brave enough to actually be part of it, over the impulse that makes her want to shrink away.

‘I’d… like to sit up front. Please.’ 

‘Yes! Good music for all!’

Catalina squeezes her gleefully and for a moment she’s afraid of Anne being upset with her- is she an idiot for siding against her own cousin?

‘Curse you, Kitty.’

But Anne’s beaming as she says it.

**

She’s buckling her seatbelt and Catalina is fussing with adjusting her seat and complaining that Jane always puts it too far forward, while Anne complains loudly from the back every time it rams into her knees and Jane argues that it’s hardly her fault if Catalina has Amazon-long legs now.

In the midst of it, Cathy leans forward and pokes her head between the two seats.

‘Kitty?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I just wanted to say….It does get easier you know- not believing him.’

‘Does it? Does it really?’ It's her secret fear, that it’ll never go away entirely, that she’ll be hearing his voice forever, but Cathy nods decisively.

‘Really it does. You’ll see.’

Cathy smiles at her warmly before she sinks back into her place and Kitty smiles back. It doesn't feel like they need to say anything else and it’s nice, it’s a good feeling.

She  _ trusts _ her.

**

The car is quiet and the warm air blowing at her from the vents, the gentle movement, the chance to sit and not talk, means she's almost asleep by the time they pull up to the house.

When they get in, Anna guides her to the shower to stop her from walking into walls. Everything feels a bit fuzzy now, like her body is letting itself sink into her exhaustion.

‘Do you want pajamas or normal clothes?’

She hesitates- and Anna laughs. (She is the only person from the old life who never seemed to be annoyed by her indecision, and she will follow Anna to the ends of the earth in gratitude for it.)

‘I’ll surprise you.’

It's a relief, once the cold sweat of rehearsal has been washed away and she’s warmed up a bit. The clothes outside the bathroom door aren’t hers- she doesn’t recognise the material at first. When she unfolds them, she sees they’re Anna’s own old sweat pants and a faded tshirt.

The writing on the front reads  _ Bitch Goddess.  _ She buries her face for a moment in the worn-soft material before putting it on.

The others are in her room when she gets there. Cathy is putting a cup of tea down on her bedside table; Jane puts a hot water bottle on the bedspread.

‘You looked cold in the car.’

It feels odd, the attention all centered around her, but nice too. 

She's surrounded, shielded, protected.

‘Thanks’

‘No problem, Kitty-Kat.’

‘Will you be ok, Kitty?’ Anna is still eyeing her as if she might break down all over again and she shakes her head firmly.

‘I’ll be fine. Really.’

As much as she had been prepared to push on through rehearsals and performance, the hot shower and the warmth- of the hot water bottle, of Cathy and Anne perched on the bed either side of her- is making her as if she could sleep for a year, even though it’s only mid afternoon. 

The thought of being on her own doesn’t even feel as lonely as it might have done this morning- she can read a bit, she thinks, maybe try the Netflix series Anne keeps recommending. 

‘Don’t do any chores or anything that’s like work, ok?’

‘I won’t, I promise.’

She has to swallow a yawn half way through her reply.

‘Get some rest, ok?’

She nods; Jane fusses with her pillows. 

It’s like being ill, it’s like being an invalid- but it’s also just nice, to feel so very cocooned in care. It soothes away the stress of the day, the anxiety and fear and the other emotions that have been unexpectedly unearthed: it helps push away the scared shakiness that's still threatening around the edges. 

Catalina tucks a blanket over her; it would make her feel like a child, except for the fact that it’s not something she can ever remember anyone doing for her, ever.

‘We’ll text before we go on.’

‘Ok.’

‘Thanks for….being so honest with us today Kitty-’ Cathy adds. ‘It was really brave.’ 

There are murmurs of agreement.

‘Thank you-’ She feels her face heating up as she says it. ‘Thank you for….listening. And for….everything.’

‘Thank you for letting us help.’

‘Remember, we’re all here if you need a reminder. If you need us to help drown him out a bit.’

‘Or just for anything-’ Jane adds quickly ‘Anything at all, sweetheart.’

‘Promise you’ll let us help you?’ Anne actually looks anxious as she says it, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘Promise you’ll keep on being open with us?’

‘I promise-’ she starts and then starts again. ‘I promise- as long as you promise the same?’ it sounds stupid as she says it and she half wants to take it back but it’s hard to do so gracefully when there are five people hanging on your every word. ‘Promise you’ll all...let me help you too?’

Theres a moment and she cringes- what a stupid stupid thing to say, as if she could help them. Then Catalina sighs.

‘God the fact that that bastard made you doubt for even a moment that you’re a good person makes me want to scream.’

‘What Catalina means is- yes.’ Cathy interpets.

‘We’ll all help each other. We’re a family- right?’

The other queens exchange anxious hopeful glances, and for the first time, the bonds that she’s imagined between the other queens as being strong and impenetrable and utterly beyond anything she could hope to attain seem...fragile. Newly forged, just as her own are. But so full of hope. so very full of hope.

‘Yes’

‘That's right’

She feels the tiniest glow that this is something she’s made happen- this monet, she can sense, is a shifting of states of being, a growing closeness. It's a change that happened because of her, and it’s this- even more so than the way she feels oddly lighter now, even more so that the feeling that she's shed something heavy and dragging that she’d been carrying around- it’s this that she’s grateful for.

They’re not a family, not yet- but they could be.

One day.


End file.
